The Bourbon Street Ripper (Sins of the Father, Book 1) (49 page)

Michael asked, “So, how many of you covered it up? How many are left who still know?”

Rodger thought about it long enough to get an accurate count. “Myself; old Dugas, who headed up the investigation against Giorgio; Ouellette, who, believe it not, was already bald back then; and Kyle Aucoin. We’re the only ones left who remember.”

Michael nodded his head and, after a few seconds, finished writing. Looking at Rodger, he said, “So that is why Sam is being observed and treated so carefully as a suspect. Her grandfather was the Ripper and her father may have been on the take.”

Rodger nodded, figuring that the matter of Edward was closed. He started to drink his beer, but nearly choked when Michael said, “Rodger, I think Edward was innocent. Rosemary said something that resonated with me. I don’t think that the arguments had to do with Blue-Eyed Giorgio being under suspicion of rape.”

“Whoa, slow down, Michael. Old Rosemary hasn’t opened up to anyone before. And believe me, the pressure was put on her. So what’s the story there?”

Michael said, “It’s simple. I know that Blue-Eyed Giorgio wanted to have a relationship with Magnolia of the M and M Sisters, while she already had a relationship with Edward.”

Rodger thought for a moment, sure that the situation didn’t add up, swirling the ideas around in his head. After a moment, Rodger shook his head and said, “No, you got that backward. It was the other one, Marigold—Magnolia’s twin sister—who was Edward’s lover.”

The look on Michael’s face showed that he wanted to argue, but was fighting it.

Sucking in his breath, Rodger said, “I could have it wrong, partner. It’s been twenty years. Magnolia died shortly before the Ripper murders began, and Marigold ran away soon before Dr. Castille was arrested.”

Michael didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was very firm. “We need to get that straight, Rodger. I’m sure it’s important. Rosemary stated, before I left, that Magnolia was murdered.”

This revelation made Rodger blink, and again he was sure the confusion shone on his face.

“Magnolia was murdered? Hmmm. I thought she had a heart attack. Man, this shit from twenty years ago, it just won’t go away.”

While it was obvious that Michael was tensing up again, Rodger could tell his partner was still managing to keep his cool.

“It is relevant, Rodger,” said Michael. “Even if it’s not linked to the current case, figuring it out should give us an idea of the big picture. Besides, wouldn’t you like to be able to go to the office of the police chief with evidence that Edward Castille was an honest cop caught in a dirty game?”

That thought made a part of Rodger that had been tense for years start to relax. With a tired nod, he said, “I would love that. For his sake. For Sam’s.”

Michael turned the pages in his notebook and said, “Now, that brings me to the current investigation. Rodger, I am sorry, but the circumstantial evidence points to Sam as the killer. She has a history of mental illness, she was as messed up as Dallas, who I met, by the way, and who is completely off the list of suspects—the guy couldn’t hurt a fly—and she has the access to everything her grandfather had, including his property on Lake Pontchartrain, where the torture chamber is located and where the last murder was committed. I don’t want to believe it, and I’d want hard evidence before I’d consider arresting her, but it doesn’t look good.”

Rodger felt his stress level return. Shaking his head, he said, “No freaking way. Sam didn’t do it. My gut tells me—”

“Your gut, I am sorry to say,” Michael replied, his voice elevated, “hasn’t been worth shit lately. In fact, Rodger, who really solved the Ripper murders? You and Edward? Or just Edward?”

Rodger’s brow furrowed. As he pulled himself back in the shadows, obscuring his face, he said, “Fuck you, Michael.”

From the darkness, Rodger could see his partner’s expression soften, Michael getting a look that showed he realized that he had gone too far.

“I’m sorry.”

Rodger didn’t feel like accepting that apology. He had been wrestling with this for a long time, and Michael’s lack of social graces were bringing him to the very edge. He knew the answer, but admitting it out loud would take a surplus of courage that he no longer had—not after today.

After a few moments, Rodger said, “Let’s just say that I have as much to prove this time around as you do, and leave it at that.”

That seemed to be good enough for Michael. He nodded and sipped his beer. “Well, Sam could be cleared if we could just search her apartment. But that damn Kent keeps stonewalling us from doing so.”

“Kent is just looking out for Sam,” Rodger replied coolly. “The real thing that concerns me is that someone has deliberately sabotaged my relationship with Sam. Can you believe this shit, Michael? Today, I discovered that someone had stopped her from getting every card I’d ever sent her. All those years of trying to foster goodwill, while nurturing my own injured ego, fucked over because someone decided to block my efforts to be Good Uncle Rodger.”

Michael looked up for a second and then nodded. Rodger wondered, through the haze of his mind, muddled now with exhaustion and alcohol, what his partner had figured out. Rodger was sure he’d figure it out later and slid it into the messy stockpile of information that was his memory to sort through later.

Michael turned the page of his notebook and read a note. “By the way, Rodger, Blind Moses is a woman.”

“I know,” was Rodger’s relaxed reply. “Fat Willie told me. And that reminds me. I’ve got some shit to tell you on him, but let’s save it for after I’ve sobered up.”

Michael nodded and said, “That’s fine. Anyway, assuming Sam and Richie can keep themselves out of trouble, I have our next two locations figured out. We need to go back to Robert Fontenot and drill him on some particulars that Rosemary said. Then, we need to go to the Castille Mansion on Lake Pontchartrain. I’ve already got a search warrant in the works, in case the proprietor there tries to stop us.”

“That’s a good idea,” Rodger said, the feeling of booze and sleep deprivation mixing like a Zen cocktail. “If this Magnolia, Marigold, and Mary thing is going to get sorted out, the Castille Mansion could very well be the place to do it.”

Michael looked at Rodger with a confused expression, and asked, “Who the hell is Mary, Rodger?”

Rodger started to answer when someone out the corner of his eye caught his attention. Rodger got up, ignoring his partner calling after him, and headed over to the person in question.

“Kyle,” Rodger said, approaching Aucoin, who was still in his suit, standing in the middle of the bar as if he were lost, and looking around. “Here for a drink?”

Aucoin turned toward Rodger, a surprised look on his face. “Rodger, what the heck are you doing here?”

“Having a drink with his partner,” replied Michael, who was by now at Rodger’s side. Rodger felt a bit of his tension release and some of his pride return at Michael calling him his partner again. “If you’re here about Ouellette, we already know. I found out from the commander himself.”

“Ah, right, the meeting tomorrow,” Aucoin said, looking around the bar again and then back at the detective duo. Patting Rodger on the shoulder, Aucoin managed a small wry smile and said, “Just so you know, you better not plan on having any balls tomorrow after the commander gets done with you.”

Apart from helping to sober Rodger up, Aucoin’s comment grounded Rodger back into reality. Looking over at Michael, Rodger realized that he had brushed him off again, and said, “I’ll tell you about Mary later. Sorry, I got distracted.”

“It’s okay, thanks,” Michael replied. “Detective Aucoin, if I may ask, what are you doing here? You’re looking like you’re waiting for someone. Is it Detective Olivier?”

Aucoin chuckled and shook his head. “Dixie? No. No. She’s probably having a Greek gyro right now. No, I’m looking for someone. Although I guess this is not the place. Man, I am really out of touch with the hot spots in the Quarter.”

“Well, there’s any place on Bourbon Street,” Rodger said. “And there is O’Flaherty’s on Toulouse, and House of Blues on Decatur. Why, who are you looking for?”

“My daughter, Cheryl,” Aucoin replied. “We got into a fight earlier this evening and she ran off with her friends. With that copycat killer on the loose, Cathy is sick with worry and wants me to find her and bring her home.”

Rodger looked over at Michael. As his partner nodded, Rodger realized that the Ripper copycat investigation was going to get put on pause for the night, and all three of them would be getting to bed late after trying to find Cheryl.

“We’ll help you,” Rodger said to Aucoin. “Let’s split up and search for her until we find her.”

Michael said, “Right. And if Rodger or I find her, we’ll detain her and call Cathy to come pick her up.”

Aucoin, who had been looking around again, looked back at the two detectives and gave the kind of tired smile that only a grateful father could give.

“Thanks. I’ll remember this, guys. So let’s get started. She didn’t disappear by magic.”

Chapter 25   
One Last Chance

“Rodger, Michael, I am trying so hard not to have a reason to suspend you,” Ouellette said to the two detectives, his palms resting flat on the surface of his desk. The tension in the office was palpable, hanging in the air like thick smoke. The door was closed and the shutters were drawn over the windows. Outside the office, the conversations were hushed at best.

Michael was standing to the side of his partner, who, like him, had his hands at his sides and was in an attentive, almost military stance. Sitting to the other side, looking less tense but equally troubled, were Aucoin and Dixie, the former of whom kept looking at his watch. Michael noted that, with the exception of Dixie, everyone in the room looked haggard, tired, and on edge. Even Ouellette, who held himself together with admirable military discipline, seemed like he had not slept in days.

“I am trying so very hard not to have a reason to suspend you,” Ouellette repeated, his hands lifting from the surface of his desk and leaving sweat marks, “but your behavior yesterday broke so many rules that I have basically two choices.”

Lifting a finger, Ouellette said, “One, I suspend you both right now without pay, and hand the investigation to Aucoin and Dixie. After this case is closed, we can review why Rodger saw fit to take a suspect to Angola, and why Michael saw fit to allow a known witness, who, might I add, gave my other two detectives a real piss-poor attitude, to perform a private investigation.”

Michael stood there, unflinching, allowing the accusation to be laid upon him. He had already decided to take the sole blame for suggesting Richie go investigate at the library, since Rodger faced the far more serious charge of carting Sam around.

“Two,” said Ouellette, producing a second finger, “I can sweep this shit under the rug with the boys in City Hall, and you two can walk with a very short leash for the rest of this investigation.”

Lowering his hand to point at Rodger and Michael, Ouellette said, “I just need from you both a good reason to do the second option instead of the first.”

As Michael stood there, formulating what to say, Rodger spoke up. “Michael and I are making some strong headway with the case now. If you’d give us just a few more days, I’m sure we can catch this guy before he kills again.”

As soon as Rodger was finished, Michael spoke up. “Commander, we’re on the verge of connecting the old Ripper case to this copycat one. We just need a few more key pieces of evidence, and we’ll be ready to make an arrest.”

Lowering his hand, Ouellette glared at both men, then turned to Aucoin and Dixie. “What do you two think?”

Dixie said, “I think Michael and Rodger have a good point. We should hear the evidence that they’ve found so far. I’m sure it’s more than enough to make up for what they did yesterday.”

There was a long pause as everyone, including Ouellette, looked at what was obviously a very distracted Aucoin. They hadn’t found Cheryl the night before.

“Aucoin, you wanna come back to work now and offer your opinion on this problem?” Ouellette said.

Aucoin seemed to snap back into place, shaking his head and sitting up straight.

“Right, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’ve got a solid idea of who it could be with Sam Castille, but as Michael pointed out, we lack hard evidence. Maybe she’s guilty, maybe she’s not. But our best bet is to hear what they have to say and then make a decision.”

Ouellette stared at Aucoin for a long time, then nodded and turned back to Michael and Rodger. “All right, tell me everything you have learned so far. I’ll make my decision then. Michael, you go first.”

Michael began to recount everything he had experienced the day before, starting with the trip to Lafayette to meet Dallas Christofer. He then recounted his surprisingly successful visit with Rosemary Boucher, and wrapped it up with the conversation he and Rodger had at Jean Lafitte’s—leaving out the fistfight in Sam’s townhome.

When Michael was done, Ouellette turned to Rodger. Michael didn’t feel snubbed by Ouellette’s brisk response. This was serious business.

Rodger gave his report, and while Michael had heard most of it, the retelling of the meeting with Fat Willie just confirmed what Michael had suspected—that this investigation and the one twenty years ago were interconnected. Michael wasn’t surprised to hear about the letter Fat Willie received, but he was surprised to hear “Mary” being mentioned. Michael recalled that Rodger had been about to talk about this Mary when Aucoin’s appearance had derailed them, and Michael filed away a mental memo to ask his partner about it again later.

Ouellette nodded as Rodger finished up, saying, “I see. So the bloated bastard got a letter as well, giving us three letters total. What do they say?”